48 Hours

In 48 hours, we'll be back—

Back where bright roses bloom—

Where knotty pines and vineyard wines

Are given ample room.

 

In 48 Hours, we'll be in our bed

In our very own house and town,

With fields of wheat and air that's sweet—

And everything's not brown!

 

In 48 hours, it's all over—

Our time in the desert lands.

At home we'll cheer with family near—

And go to the beach for sand. 

In 48 hours, we'll rejoice

As on our porch step we set foot..

We'll have countless 48's, to venture and create;

And from now on, we'll stay put.

 

© 2024 Teresa Miles Kephart